


blow off a little steam

by sparrabethington



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs, bored in a meeting?, have your assassin bf suck your dick under the table!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrabethington/pseuds/sparrabethington
Summary: It is disgustingly typical of Roman Sionis to get himself into compromising situations. Even more so, it’s Victor Zsasz’s job to get him out of them.On occasion, though, Victor likes to make things worse. Sometimes Roman doesn’t mind it.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 216





	blow off a little steam

It is disgustingly typical of Roman Sionis to get himself into compromising situations. Even more so, it’s Victor Zsasz’s job to get him out of them.

On occasion, though, Victor likes to make things worse. Sometimes Roman doesn’t mind it.

It begins as a harmless request. Roman, seated at a table near the center of the bustling Black Mask Club, leans back with a cocktail in one ungloved hand. He swirls it around curiously a few times, eyes the drink longingly, and swallows down the olive on the rim of the glass. With a satisfied smirk, he sets it down atop the sleek table’s surface and trails his eyes across the room. When he spots his ever-loyal assassin treading back towards him after another one of his usual nightly rounds, Roman extends an arm to grab his attention. Not that he needs to, as Victor is constantly only paying attention to him, but he does it anyway.

“Perfect timing,” Roman tells him in his smooth, pleased tone he always uses when he wants something. “Would you do me a favor, baby?”

_ Baby _ . Pet names always imply that Roman  _ really _ wants something. The fact that he uses them often is a good testament to his character. Victor is accustomed to Roman asking him to do things— it’s pretty much his entire job to wait on him hand and foot— and so he simply nods obediently and rests his arms on the small of his back. “Anything, boss,” he replies.

Roman’s own arms unfold to hug the back of the leather sofa he’s leant up against, uncrossing his daintily positioned legs. “These new shoes are dirty,” he mumbles with a pout. “Clean them for me.” It comes as less of a politely asked question and more of a demand because he knows Victor will never say no to him.

The request doesn’t phase him. Victor has done a lot more tedious tasks for his superior— most notably disposing of bodies he’d taken the life from on his orders— and so this feels like child’s play. No matter what’s asked of him, Victor unwaveringly eager to show his devotion to Roman.

A few moments pass as he continues to stand there and Roman looks at him expectantly. Suddenly it dawns on him that Roman doesn’t intend on moving a smidge and this is Victor’s burden now. Without a hint of reluctance, he sinks to his knees and crawls underneath the table. It’s relatively spacey, all things considered, and the moment he’s entirely underneath it Roman’s foot is on his shoulder and pushing him down to the floor. His shoes aren’t even dirty (go figure).

Victor has to bite his lip to keep himself from chuckling. This is  _ too much _ like Roman; faking distress for an excuse to get his employee to fuss over him. It probably feels incredible to him to be allowed to exercise his power over others with no repercussions, especially that he has over Victor. The contract killer can’t lie, it feels pretty good to be used, too.

Victor’s been down this road before and he knows exactly what Roman expects of him. To avoid keeping him waiting and quite possibly angering him, he gets to work immediately. With Roman’s foot still situated on his shoulder Victor leans down until his face is just above the ground, and then he turns his head and his nose touches Roman’s shoe. They’re brand new, still potent with a fresh leathery smell and probably stiff like the ones on display at the store. If he thinks about it any harder Roman will get impatient, so he does as he knows he should and presses his tongue to the material.

Roman feels the pressure against his toes and nods in approval. It’s a game to him, to play around like this and make Victor do petty favors that he really doesn’t gain much from. The most he gets out of it is knowing Victor is close by, knowing he’s taking care of him, knowing he’s his. Roman takes him talking to anybody else as a threat to his unwavering loyalty.

Hardly a minute later while Victor is busy at work honest to God  _ licking  _ Roman’s two thousand dollar shoes even more spotless than they already are, a big wrench is thrown in Roman’s little scheme. One of the club’s security guards escorts a younger, averagely wealthy looking man over to their table and offers him to the millionaire.

“This guy’s here to see you, Mr. S. Says he wants to talk business.”

Victor, very acutely aware of any possible threat at any given time, immediately stops to listen to what’s happening above him. Before Roman can say anything in response like “I’m busy” or “Bother me later”, the younger man slides into the seat across from him and sets a big briefcase on the table. Roman’s cocktail ripples and his eyes twitch.

“I apologize for not making any sort of appointment with you, Mr. Black Mask, but I just wanted to—“

“Sionis,” Roman cuts in. “And you should be. I have shit to do, so make this quick.” He can already tell this will end in his inevitable refusal anyways, but as much as he wants to tell this man off for interrupting his moment with Victor, maybe it has the potential to be entertaining. The assassin is currently trapped underneath the table and it’s a bit too late for him to crawl out from under it. He didn’t quite do anything to deserve something like that, but depending on how long this rookie prattles on for, Roman figures Victor will have to keep himself entertained.

As though he read his mind, Victor quickly decides how to entertain himself.

This annoying stranger suddenly opens his briefcase and starts filing through it. The top of it momentarily blocks out his face, and Roman takes the opportunity to peer down at Victor below the table. The two of them simply share a moment of heated eye contact, neither with even the faintest upward twitch of their lips, and suddenly the case is slammed shut and Roman’s attention snaps back upward. This would be a long conversation no matter how little time it takes.

“Well, um, you see here, I have the contract to a back on the other side of the city that’s been out of business for quite some time. That side of Gotham is statistically much poorer than elsewhere, and I figured that maybe restoring a bank would help people get back on their feet.”

Roman attempts to drown himself in alcohol so he doesn’t have to listen to this for God knows how long. When that fails, he snorts out a laugh. “And you think I benefit from helping poor bastards on the other side of the city? You’re pushing your luck.” Roman is approximately two seconds away from telling him to get lost until his eyes widen and he jumps a little in his seat. Victor, though  _ he’s _ the one deprived of attention for once, suddenly has his hands on Roman’s shins and is rubbing them up and down the length of his legs. When they reach the other man’s knees they boldly tap them with false consideration and then ever so slowly spread them apart. Roman knows immediately what’s on his mind, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly.

“That’s where this deal is important,” the man says. Roman isn’t listening. “With your help I think we can help close the wealth gap, no matter how minute the progress might seem.”

All that the club owner can do is nod. He’s done a complete 180 and instead of wishing this guy would shut up, all of a sudden he’s encouraging him to talk more. He could talk Roman’s ear off, he wouldn’t care. The only thing he’s focused on right now is Victor’s calloused hands creeping up past his thighs and gently ghosting over his already growing bulge. When the contact is made, Roman inhales a sharp gasp. Victor is probably loving this.

Sure enough, he is. He rises a bit on his knees, just enough to reach his arm out to find the zipper to Roman’s likely grossly overpriced dress pants. Roman could very easily help him and undo it himself or even just lean forward for easier access, but if Victor’s insistent on getting him off while he’s working, that’s his own puzzle to solve.

Lord, does he solve it quickly.

In just a few swift motions Victor has the zipper down and is already working hard with fingers peeling off his pants and boxers. Roman’s thighs are shaking and he’s probably a wreck right now, but that doesn’t matter to Victor. He wants to take care of him, to prove he’s good. The other man finally leans closer in his seat and Victor takes it as good an invitation as any to wrap his rough hand around his cock.

It isn’t the first time he’s seen it, but it’s somehow better each time he does. Roman’s dick is unbelievably good and if anything, Victor is stroking it to appreciate it and not just to get something out of it. He’s working Roman unbearably slow while his own arousal starts to twitch and strain against its confines. Above him, Roman coughs loudly. This is already fun.

The conversation sounds terribly one-sided from where Victor sits. He hears every last word the young businessman is babbling and senses Roman’s anguish better than anything. He doesn’t say much, but he knows that one of his hands is gripping the table’s edge with white knuckles and the other is covering his mouth. At any point somebody could look at him and probably guess what sort of special treatment he’s getting even though it goes completely over this stranger’s head. When Victor is satisfied with how hard he’s made Roman, he doesn’t hesitate to lean forward and purposefully wrap his lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound that Roman makes is heavenly. It’s strangled and low, made only for Victor and he’s the only one who hears it. He makes the foolish mistake of trying to take another drink of his cocktail only to cough and sputter when Victor hungrily swallows him down to the back of his throat. His nonexistent gag reflex is a gift.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Roman hisses under his breath, which is music to Victor’s ears. He takes it the other man likes it, so he works slowly swirling his tongue along the tip of his beautiful cock and licking stripes along the underside of it. He works it like a lollipop and the whole thing has his own dick practically begging for mercy. Though his mouth is busy, Victor momentarily takes his hands off Roman’s thighs to wrestle open his own pants and free himself at last.

Now Victor is pleasuring two cocks; he’s devouring Roman’s and teasing his own. Even though beneath the table is disgusting and dusty and as Roman would say, “gross”, this is still the hottest thing he’s ever done. Sucking off Roman Sionis while jerking himself off wasn’t something everybody could say they’d done, but most have probably dreamt of. Victor was lucky in that he’s now done both.

Once Victor settles on a steady pace for both his boss and himself, his eyes flutter shut and his free hand returns to Roman’s thigh. In the heat of the moment and because he’s lost in ecstasy bucking into his hand, his nails instinctively dig into the soft flesh above his knee. Roman gasps louder than the first few times and his knee comes up and collides with the table. The man falters slightly in his speech but continues on anyways.

Victor rolls his eyes at the sudden reflex and smooths his hand over the indentations as an apology.  _ Fucking pussy. _ He can’t help but moan softly around the base of Roman’s cock, grunting each time his head grazes the back of his throat. It isn’t long before Roman’s hips are twitching forward to fuck his mouth as best he can manage without looking conspicuous. Something about the fact that nobody really knows what is happening under the table makes it that much better. 

Roman is now desperately carding his fingers through his hair and chewing his fingers, soft whines and the occasional groan falling from his lips more and more as Victor speeds up his pace. The music of the club masks the noises Victor is making, which are increasing in volume as he feels himself getting closer. His hand is desperately pumping himself until he feels the pleasure start to level out at its peak. 

Victor comes onto the floor messily, his face flushed and chest panting, slathering Roman’s cock with all sorts of moaning and whimpering. The vibrations run straight through Roman’s entire body, settling in his bones and lingering in his bloodstream. It’s intoxicating.

As the man across from Roman comes to the conclusion of his preaching, Roman’s eyes widen with the realization that he’s getting close. As soon as he can catch a break in the other talking, Roman exhales a low moan and raises a shaky hand. “Excuse me a m-moment,” he chokes out. “I have to c-call for my—  _ Victor! _ ” He doesn’t get to the end of his sentence before his orgasm creeps up on him. Not a single drop of his burning hot load goes to waste thanks to his faithful assassin. Victor catches every last bit of his release and swallows it greedily and happily. He tucks himself back into his pants and does the zipper back up while Roman rushes to do the same as though for once he feels that Victor has done enough for the night.

Once he catches his breath, Roman smiles sarcastically at the young man and makes a gesture with his hand. “He’ll be here any moment. Anyways, thank you for wasting my time tonight, but unfortunately I’ll have to refuse your offer. Come see me if something changes and you aren’t a complete fucking moron, ‘kay?” His tone is cheery and bright as the other man looks thoroughly embarrassed. He stands to his feet and hurries away, likely weighing pros and cons of never returning to the club ever again.

Roman pushes his loose strands of hair out of his face and breathes heavily, tapping Victor’s knee with the tip of his shoe as though to indicate he can come back out. When Victor crawls out and looks at him, he instantly wishes he could have seen the series of expressions that got him there. He looks  _ ragged _ , like he hasn’t slept or done his hair in days. It’s hot.

“Clean up your mess,” Roman says stiffly, his eyes closing gingerly and his head falling against the back of the sofa. 

Victor savors the image for a moment, then simply licks his lips and gives a small nod.

“You got it, boss.”


End file.
